


Making Flowers Bloom

by Dratter (Ragdoll_llodgaR)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angry Harry, Angry Harry Potter, Child Neglect, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 13:37:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18411746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragdoll_llodgaR/pseuds/Dratter
Summary: “What's it like?” Harry nearly slid his bare hand down the knife's blade of which he was washing. Petunia's voice had come from right behind him, far softer than he has heard in years. Just as shocking was the fact she was willingly in the kitchen with him when there were plenty of other rooms without him.





	Making Flowers Bloom

“What's it like?” Harry nearly slid his bare hand down the knife's blade of which he was washing. Petunias voice had come from right behind him, far softer than he has heard in years. Just as shocking was the fact she was willingly in the kitchen with him when there were plenty of other rooms without him. 

Harry hesitantly put the knife down in the rinsing basin and turned his face towards his aunt, not making any eye contact as he had been taught. “S-sorry?” silence.

“Being a wizard.” dead silence. Harry inhaled deeply before risking the chance of a punishment to meet her eyes, which were looking at him with an expression Harry had never seen on anyone's face causing him to exhale sharply. 

“I-I guess it depends. Do you mean what's it like having magic, or what it's like to be a wizard?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes.”

“Lily once told me that it was like her blood sang, and when she called upon it the hum could make energy that made her feel like she could accomplish anything. And with magic, she could.” Harry was surprised to hear his mothers name in loo of ‘whore' or ‘bitch', also in the lack of hate in his Aunt voice, in fact he’d say she sounded nearly wistful.

“I can't say that's wrong, but for me, much of the time it feels like that energy is nervous, bundled up and ready to strike. To protect. Like there’s too much and i'm on the brink of bursting, breaking.” he averted his eyes before he continued, turning back to the dishes in hopes of getting through this. “but my mother was raised in a healthy environment. Her magic likely only manifested to fulfill childish wishes like jumping high to pick an apple, making flowers bloom in late fall. Perhaps she tripped and it saved her from injury here or there. For me... my magic has had one purpose and one purpose only since I was 2, protect, heal, and save.” he wasn't sure but he thought he heard his aunts feet shuffle uncomfortably. Or at least he hoped.

“Most children's magic stays within their core, inaccessible until six or seven unless they experience a life threatening event, they fall off a changing table and land softly, they trip down the stairs without a bruise. Tripping won't even evoke a magical reaction until six or so unless they are in life threatening danger. For me I had my first bought of accidental magic at three, when Dudley pushed me down the stairs. That would have been the place of my death, right over there.”

Harry glanced back to the wall just blocking the view of the first few steps, then glanced at Petunia whose pale complexion had even less color than usual. 

“By the age of six, my magic was being used as often as that of a first year student at Hogwarts, at the least once every hour. Whether it was a pan of grease you plopped me in front of, the sticks Dudley and his friends would beat me with until it hurt to breathe, the days of labor without being fed, or the ‘punishments' Uncle gave me. I never found a glass plate bouncing after being dropped, never had any toy dragon start to magically fly, never made a flower spontaneously bloom.” 

Petunia thought back to the first time she seen it. Magic. Lily and her had been two years apart, Lily seven, and she nearly nine playing in their backyard. Lily and her had been braiding flower crowns for each other with the sparse amount of flowers they could find, both ending up with far too short ropes of flower when suddenly, in a perfect circle around them beautiful dandelions and daisies of various colors sprouted up. She was pulled from the memory suddenly as Harry turned on the sink to rinse the dishes.

“because of the early magical awakening, the intense and constant use of it and the amount of magic healing takes, my core ended up over developed. Which doesn't sound bad but it feels like i'm boiling over with it. I even have to regularly meditate and release the energy because if I don't I could risk a magic outburst, and with the sheer amount of magic i'm able to wield it could decimate our whole neighborhood, and anyone near me unmagical would fall ill or die from exposure, and id most likely die.”

“Even with all that, I wouldn't give it up for the world. My magic has been with me since I can remember, it's saved my life countless times, its made me sad, scared, secure and happy. So very happy.” no noise could be heard until Harry had put every dish in the rack and turned, drying his hands on a hand towel.

“and being a wizard?” Petunia nearly whispered. Still unsure what the difference could be. To have magic was to be a wizard or witch.

“Being a wizard is more than the magic. It's the society, its the community, the expectations and regulations. To be a wizard is all consuming, restricting, and terrifying. All in all its war. Political and physical. I was told the day I learned of my heritage, of being a wizard, that I was the reason my parents were murdered, that I was the reason that British Wizarding society could sleep at night for nearly ten years, that millions knew my name, that millions knew my face, that my peers were read bedtime stories about me. As an eleven year old who spent the better part of their lives ignored, insignificant, unwanted and invisible, suddenly thrown in the middle of a war… it was terrifying.” He seen his aunts face shift, nearing mocking, unbelieving and felt all the anger of the last thirteen, nearly fourteen years of life bubble over.

“You don't get it, Aunt. My first year I was forced to murder a man, my teacher, possessed by the man that murdered my parents. I was eleven! I placed my hands on him and watched his blood boil and body disintegrate as some growth hissed about the lousy parents I only just learned of months before. My dead parents, of which everyone felt the need to talk about, to compare me to. That's not even the only fucking person I've seen die! Because that fucking murderer came back the next year possessing a little girl, making her slaughter chickens and paint the walls in blood. And yet again for some reason I was the only one to save her, to kill what possessed her and a snake so fucking big it made the shopping center look like a shopping cart!”

Petunias face was ashen and her heart was racing as Harry yelled, tears streaming down his face, slowly approaching her as he crumbled. 

“Then I hear that I had a godfather, who apparently lead Voldemort to my parents, but that was wrong and in truth he was innocent. I saved his life, actually we both fucking died and I had to go back in time and save both our lives. He's fucking innocent but because he escaped jail he can't save me. I saved him but he can't. Save. Me! I begged Dumbledore to stay at the school, every year! I told him what you guys make me do, what Vernon does to me! I showed him my scars and he told me to my face I was exaggerating! Making it up and using glamours to create my disgusting body! I haven't eaten in three fucking days, and I still have six more hours of being your slave before i'm tossed into the fucking cell again so I can cry myself to sleep as my stomach continues to eat itself!”

“I-” Petunia cut herself off has Harry went pale with terror, body shaking as the adrenaline caught up with him and died off

“Oh god, i'm so sorry Aunt Petunia, please, please don't tell Vernon, i'm sorry, i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorr-" Harry fell to the floor, arms wrapping around his knees and shaking with his sobs as his Aunt stood absolutely shocked, back pressed to the wall.


End file.
